


Mr. Hale

by geeky1992



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, teacher!Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:17:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geeky1992/pseuds/geeky1992
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teacher!Derek AU. In light of Scott’s recent werewolfiness, Stiles switches electives to relevent studies in an attempt to actually get some sleep at night instead of just hours of obsessively googling the supernatural. His new schedule includes Folklore and Mythology taught by the new teacher Mr. Hale...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Hale

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that all romance between Stiles and Derek will take place in the future after high school (with the exception of Stiles having a crush on Derek).

Stiles slams his lunch tray down and regards Scott gravely, “This isn’t working. It’s not you, it’s me. Okay, it’s kinda totally you, but still.”

 

Scott eats a french fry, entirely unconcerned as he asks, “What?” After all, he’s been friends with Stiles forever, he knows when it’s time to panic and when Stiles is just being Stiles. 

 

“This thing,” Stiles gestures back and forth between them so vigorously he upturns a salt shaker. “Is. Not. Working. I haven’t slept in, like, forever - or since Saturday, same diff - I cannot plug into the wall and recharge, Scott. I need sleep, Scott. STILES NEEDS HIS BEAUTY SLEEP SCOTT.”

 

Scott blinks, utterly befuddled. “Um...sorry? I wasn’t aware I was keeping you up seeing as I’ve been sleeping every night...at my house...by myself...somehow disturbing you...?”

 

Stiles huffs. “No, dumbass, the research! The research is depriving me of my precious sleeeep! I will not stand for this. This will not stand. I cannot keep googling the supernatural all night long. Seriously, dude.”

 

“So, stop googling. Take a break.” Scott suggests.

 

“What? I cannot just-just stop!” Stiles cries, offended by the very notion. “We know nothing about lycanthropy, dude! Nada. Zilch. Jack-freaking-squat. The next full moon is only three weeks away and we cannot have a repeat of the last one.”

 

They wear matching expressions of abject horror as they recall the last full moon. Or, as Stiles calls it, the ‘Almost Death of Stiles Stillinski at the Hands of A Big Black Thing With Red Eyes That Is Really Truly Totally Not A Mountain Lion While His Werewolf Best Friend Is Busy Being Chained To A Surprisingly Sturdy Radiator’. 

 

“Yeah, that would be bad...” Scott admits with a wince. “So what are we going to do? I mean, you can’t keep skipping bed time.”

 

“Yeah, I know, man, and with school...” Stiles whimpers and lays his head on the table.

 

Scott gives a sympathetic smile and a friendly pat on the arm. “We’ll figure it. For now, just focus on your classes, okay?”

 

Stiles sighs. “Yeah, okay, I--” Stiles halts as he’s hit by an idea. A great fucking idea.

 

Scott frowns and waves his hand in front of Stiles’ face. “Uh, dude?”

 

Stiles leaps up from his seat and yells, “I’ve got it!” He does a happy spin and a little fork-on-cup drum solo before running out of the cafeteria leaving a super confused Scott in his wake.

 

\-----

 

Stiles nearly slams into Mr. Ashburn’s (the guidance counselor’s) door in his haste but manages to put the brakes on and instead throw the door open like a sane(r) person. 

 

Mr. Ashburn startles, nearly knocking his cup of coffee to the floor. “Stilinski? What--”

 

“I need to change my schedule!”

 

\-----

 

“What’d you change?” Scott asks around a bite of pasta. “And how does that solve our research crisis?” 

 

“Two words my furry little friend: Maximum. Efficiency.” Stiles crows smugly. “Since I don’t have enough time outside of school, I’ll use my time in school. I pretty much changed everything. Except Chem and Stats. Not for lack of whining, though, Mr. Harris is a douche--”

 

“Dude get to the point!”

 

“Fine. Take a look if you’re so eager.”

 

{2011-2012 Academic Schedule --- Stilinski, S.}

 

First Period...Comparative Literature with Ms. Landry Anthropology with Ms. Beckind

Second Period...Sculpting with Mr. Frank Mythology and Folklore with Mr. Hale

Second Period...Political Studies with Ms. Reinhart Free Study

Third Period...Chemistry with Mr. Harris

Fifth Period...Spanish 2 with Mr. Hernandez Latin and Romance Languages with Ms. Morrell

Sixth Period...Wood Shop with Ms. Jannis Animal Behavior and Physiology with Coach Finstock

Seventh Period...Statistics with Ms. Fowler

 

“Dude, Coach Finstock teaches animal phys?” Scott asks skeptically.

 

“Indeed,” Stiles declares as he yanks his schedule from Scott’s undeserving hands. “He is a man of many eclectic and straight up fucking weird talents. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to read five chapters for Mythology.”

 

\-----

 

The sun feels perfect on his face. Warm and bright and--

 

Stiles’ eyes fly open cause oh fuck there is no way it is this sunny at five am AKA the only appropriate time for him to wake up before his alarm clock screeches at him. A quick glance at the clock reveals uselessly blinking red numbers declaring it midnight.

 

“Shit!” 

 

\-----

 

By the time Stiles dresses (he’s pretty sure he’d get kicked out if he showed up to first period in his Batman boxers) and brakes half a dozen traffic laws getting to school, he’s ten minutes late for second period and cursing the heavens and Scott McCall for giving him a cheap gag bat-phone circa Adam Ward alarm clock for his 11th birthday.

 

In his haste Stiles yanks the door to room 215 open with a little more force than necessary or advised, noisily knocking an inspirational learning poster to the floor. Stiles promptly flounders like a dumbass trying to pick it up while the entire class openly stares at him.

 

Stiles is in the middle of dying of humiliation and his fifth attempt to get the blue sticky tack to do it’s goddamn job and hold up the lamenated Einstein quote, when he hears a calm yet husky voice instruct the class to return to their quiz before quietly asking Stiles, “What are you doing in my classroom?”

 

Stiles cuts his losses and lays the poster on top of a nearby shelf before taking a deep breath and turning to face---

 

Hottie McHot Hot Hottie

 

Stiles is not proud of the low wolf whistle he emits at the sight. He is, however, consoled by the knowledge that most people would completely lose their cool in front of Captain Sexypants. Plus, his hold on his ‘cool’ had always been tenuous at best.

 

Mr. Chippendale raises a dark eyebrow at him and oh holy shit is that a terrifying look. 

 

“Uh, one sec.” After a moment of struggle, Stiles brandishes his revised schedule and thrusts it at him.

 

Mr. Hale gets a pinched, pissy look but it seems like its directed more at the schedule than Stiles. “Have you done the reading?”

 

“Yes, sir!” Stiles might be preening. He’s certainly doing an internal happy dance complete with fan kicks. He swears Mr. Hale’s stubble twitches in amusement.

 

“Then you can go ahead and take today’s quiz. If you don’t finish by the end of class you can take it with you and complete it during lunch or in study hall as long as I get it by the end of the day. All homework thus far has been reading asignments so there isn’t any other work you need to complete. Sit there,” Mr. Hale says as he gestures to an open seat in the front row and passes him the quiz.

 

Stiles obliges, grateful Hale didn’t even ask why he was late or mark him tardy.

 

\-----

 

The week passes in a positive fashion. 

 

Coach Finstock is, by some bizarre stroke of luck, teaching predator and pack behavior and seems surprisingly knowledgible on the subject.  Stiles already sees glaring errors he’s made in dealing with Scott when he’s wolfed out.

 

The Latin textbook for Ms. Morell’s Romance Languages class is helping him descipher some of the earlier texts on Weres while his Anthropology course is giving him lots of ideas on where to look for information on various cultures from many different times.

 

But Mr. Hale’s Mythology & Folklore is by far the most interesting. The class has pretty steep reading requirements and has had a few no-warning, closed-book pop quizzes but it’s not unreasonable or outrageous (though the other student’s might not agree -- he’s heard them call the guy Hell Hale on a few occasions) and the actual class time is definitely Stiles’ favorite. It’s obvious Mr. Hale know what he’s talking about; rather than just regurgitating the information from the book he expands and expounds familiarly and can easily answer off-the-cuff questions thoughtfully and even support answers at length, providing examples not found anywhere in the book (Stiles has looked).

 

It’s the Monday following his first week in Hale’s class that Stiles decides to approach the guy.

 

Stiles thinks about doing some mild stalking to learn Hale’s schedule before determining that lunch time was as good a time as any. 

 

“Mr. Hale?” 

 

Hale doesn’t look up from the papers he’s grading, but doen’t seem annoyed. “Yes, Mr. Stilinski?”

 

“Stiles. Uh, I mean, most people call me Stiles. Except Coach, he calls me ‘Bilinski’ but that’s because he’s Coach and he’s,” Stiles enthusiastically makes the universal gesture for coocoo for cocoa puffs, “So he doen’t really count as people.”

 

“Harris refers to you as Stilinski.”

 

“Harris is a huge dick.” Stiles blurts before he can think better of it and prompty wants to slap himself because, seriously, you cannot tell a teacher you think another teacher is a dick. He’s so getting detention--

 

“Language but touche.” Hale replies dryly, finally looking up from what appears to be last Friday’s tests...only to give Stiles some sort of intense, inquisitive eyebrow configuration.

 

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. 

 

“Uh, yeah, I was wondering if you have any more books on myth-y stuff you’d recommend.”

 

Stiles swears one of Hale’s eyebrows arches superiorly. “Why?”

 

“I...” He was not prepared for follow up question. Stiles blinks slowly and scrambles for a good story...story! “I’m writing a book?”

 

A corner of Hale’s mouth twitches up. “And this surprises you?”

 

Stiles scowls and juts his chin stubbornly but he also feels a bit smug. He totally made the notoriously grumpy ‘Hell Hale’ smirk. Granted, it was at his expense but baby steps. “I am aware of my crafting.”

 

Hale grunts noncomittaly as he shifts his papers. For a second, Stiles thinks Hale’s just going to ignore him. Instead, he pushes the stack off to one side and focuses his attention on Stiles. “What are you looking for? ‘Myth-y stuff’ is rather vague.”

 

Stiles really hopes this isn’t going to come back and bite him, “I’m looking for werewolf lore.”

 

Hale doesn’t visibly react -- doesn’t jerk or freeze, doesn’t withdraw or look overly interested --- and yet, somehow Stiles knows he said the wrong thing. His intuition screams at him and adrenalin begins to course through his veins as he watches the teacher watch him.

 

Something is very, very wrong.

 

Stiles opens his mouth to say “nevermind” or “april fool’s” or make up some ridiculous excuse but he never gets the chance to.

 

Hale, in a spontaneous burst of motion, yanks his desk drawer open, pulls something from it, and then slams it shut only to thrust the item at Stiles with enough force to ruffle Stiles’ hair and garner an “oof!” from the teen.

 

Then Hale just fucking leaves.

 

Hale leaves Stiles holding a ratty old book.

 

\-----

 

The whole book is in french so Stiles rushes to the computer bank in library. Good afternoon, Googe Translate.

 

Stiles starts with the title.

 

_Enfants de la Lune et Loup_

 

**Children of the Moon and Wolf**

 

Stiles’ breath catches. Hale actually gave him a book werewolves.

 

Granted, he can’t read it and certainly isn’t going to spend forever typing up the entire thing to translate, so he skims and picks out oft repeated words and phrases aswell as anything that seems important by virtue of placement.

 

“ _Loups qui marchent sur deux jambes à la marée de la lune_.”

 

**Wolves walking on two legs with the tide of the moon.**

 

_“Argent Abattage.”_

 

**Silver Slaughter.**

 

**“** _Prêtres celtes parlent la paix, mais ne peuvent pas arrêter la chasse.”_

 

**Celtic priests talk peace, but can not stop hunting.**

 

_“Bête est de trois parents: l'homme, le loup et la lune.”_

 

**Beast of three parents: the man, the wolf and moon.**

 

_“Peste de fleur pourpre.”_

 

**Plague of purple flower.**

 

_“L'argent est mort.”_

 

**Silver is death.**

 

_“Fléau.”_

 

**Bane.**

 

_“Les chasseurs chassent les enfants de la lune dans la nuit de la lumière et le jour de l'obscurité.”_

 

**Hunters hunt the children of the moon in the night of light and the day of darkness.**

 

_“Meute.”_

 

**Pack.**

 

_“Chasseurs.”_

 

**Hunters.**

 

_“Mat.”_

 

**Mate.**

 

Stiles is about ready to chalk this all up to bullshit lore, because he knows for a fact silver doesn’t kill Scott, when he comes across something interesting.

 

_“L'ancre est ce qui se trouve dans le cœur.”_

 

**The anchor is that which lies in the heart.**

 

\-----

 

“Dude, why would I need an anchor? I don’t even have a boat.” Scott whispers the next morning as Stiles waits at his desk for second period to start.

 

Stiles is super tempted to slap him. “Not an actual anchor, dumbass. It’s metaphorical. You need an anchor in reality to help them control your wolfiness.”

 

Scott looks interested,“Does the anchor need to be an item? Or is it a feeling?”

 

“I think its a feeling. The book says, ‘The anchor is that which lies in the heart.’”

 

“Dude, you lie in my heart and that didn’t stop me from trying to...y’know.”

 

“Yeah, but...I think it’s gotta be really specific. It can’t one time be your bro-love for me and the next time be how much you love your mom.”

 

Scott nods thoughtfully, “There’s something we’re missing...”

 

Stiles sighs, “Yeah, definitely. But it’s a start. I’ll do some more translating during free period--”

 

“McCall.” 

 

Stiles startles. When the hell did Hale get here and why’s he so close?!

 

Scott shoots up, “Mr. Hale! I was just...on my way to second period. Bye, Stiles.” Scott gives a little wave as he flees.

 

Stiles quickly ducks to pull out his notebook, but not before he notices Hale’s eyes lingering on where _Enfants de la Lune et Loup_ sits open on his desk _._


End file.
